river recently overheard a conversation i had with a friend. from three rows back in the minivan. he and his sippy, silently listening.
he’s fascinated with dreams.
“where did river’s middle name come from?” she asks and i begin the story, everything is a story. i like stories. maybe because everyone has them. it’s what makes us human. every one of us is interesting and different and still the same.
i chat to her about the time just six months after my wedding. deep in the winter of the rocky mountains, the one room cabin, the bed loft, the down comforter. six years before river’s birth. “his name came to me in a dream.” a series of dreams. each one more real than the next. and so he is malakai.
the next day it bubbles to the surface while he’s thinking. perched on the toilet (my presence required) he tilts his head to the side when asking a question.
“did you dream of me before i was born?”
throughout this week he lets me into his mind by asking this. and i feel that i can give him no better gift. to know this simple truth at such a young age. “i wanted you before i had you.” i never thought i’d have him. he, the sweet boy that he is. i had always dreamed. but then there he was six years later, the happy accident. how lucky i am that he found me. it seems that the best things in life are never planned.